Seeking Freedom
by Freerunner4427
Summary: The Story of The Roger Pirates from the journal of one of it's crew.
1. Prolouge: Every Story Needs a Beginning

**Okay, looking back on it I'll admit that this story needed to be rewritten. It lacked quality and quantity.**

 **Do you really think I would be writing here if I owned One Piece?**

* * *

 _I wanted freedom,_

 _Open air,_

 _and Adventure._

 _I found it on the sea._

 _ **~Alaine Gerbault.**_

 _They say that man is mighty,_

 _He governs the land and sea:_

 _He wields a mighty scepter_

 _O'er lesser powers that be:_

 _And the hand that rocks the cradle_

 _Is the hand that rules the world._

 _ **~William Ross Wallace**_

* * *

 **W ARNING:**

 **Just because we were dumbasses doesn't mean you can be one too, so DON'T try anything you read about without a good crew to back you up. We were professionals.**

 **The following is a detailed account of the rise and fall of the 12th Pirate Monarch. After declining to include her name anywhere within these pages for safety reasons, the Authoress is still alive and at large today. This book is banned from being purchased, printed, and possessed by order of the World Government. If discovered, this book will confiscated and burned, and the publisher, seller, and owner will be publicly executed without trial.**

 **You have been warned**

* * *

 _Prologue_ _: Every Story Needs a Beginning_

Our world is vast, mysterious, and overall insane. To claim otherwise would not only be foolish, but utterly ignorant.

The first example that comes to mind is that of the Red Line, the Grand Line, and the Four Blues. If you've ever been to school, seen a map of the world, or read a book you know exactly what I'm talking about. But to everyone who doesn't:

The Red Line is the largest single landmass in the world. It stretches from pole to pole, vertically dividing the entire world into two hemispheres. Unfortunately, it's entire shoreline is made of sheer cliffs and unclimbable mountains, making traveling on it by foot impossible. As such, it is also the most unexplored part of our world, with pieces of it being utterly untouched since it's formation. The only way for other oceans to trade and interact is by either going through the canals on Reverse Mountain, braving the Calm Belt, or going under it. There is one place that humans inhabit, though for the sake of your life, I hope you never see it.

The Grand Line is a stretch of ocean that spans our equator and bisects the Red Line at a perfect 90° angel and as such is tecniqually divided into two oceans. The first half of the Grand Line is called Paradise by those who have sailed it, although you wouldn't actually understand WHY until you've sailed the second part, The New World. To put it bluntly, there is **absolutely** _ **nothing**_ that is considered unnatural when you are sailing the Grand Line as it is considered both the Pirate Graveyard, and the single most insane and frustrating thing you will ever experience. There are really no words that could paint it in an accurate picture, but my favorite way to describe it is **_Mother Nature's Asylum for the Strange and Unnatural_ _on_ _Crack_ _._**

The Four Blues are the, thankfully, semi-normal oceans of the world. Divided by the Red Line and the Grand Line, they occupy the four quadrants that are left over and were given the names of East Blue, West Blue, North Blue, and South Blue. People from all four of the oceans are diverse, varied, and, more often than not, completely normal human beings that just want to live their lives in relative peace and comfort. And then there are people like me, who are born there, and once they're old enough leave without looking back.

I was born in South Blue on an tiny, peaceful, summer island that would be my whole world for seventeen years of my life. My parents were from two prominent merchant families who's names and products are world renowned.

The first time I ever remember going down to the ocean is when I was two years old.

My father was gone on one of his business trips to another island, so my mother had decided to bring me to enjoy beach for the day. I remember the soft joyful feeling of the sand underneath my feet and in my hands, childishly chasing after the seagulls and crabs that wandered near us, and hunting for starfish and oysters in the tide pools. But what I remember most of that day was the sunset as my mother carried me back up the trail.

I was watching over her shoulders as the sun dipped down to kiss the sea goodnight, painting the skies with it's beautiful golden, red, and purple rays as the sea glittered and mirrored it's masterpiece in thanks. I can pinpoint that moment as the exact time I realized I had found it.

My dream.

My dream of exploring the entire world and recording it's mysteries and secrets.

As I grew up, I learned of the world beyond my island and was enchanted with the tales of the travelers and merchants who had come to talk to my father. They happily indulged me, humoring the sweet little daughter of their bosses whom they probably assumed would follow in their footsteps some day. Looking back on it, I think my parents always suspected that wouldn't be the case. Especially when I confided in them about my dream one day soon after I turned five. They understood my obsession, and admitted to me that I never seemed all that happy on the island.

I came clean to them that evening after carefully thinking over their words. They were right, the island never quite felt like home to me.

No, that feeling was solely reserved for and held by the sea.

After that day I began spending more and more time down on the beach, taking every opportunity to spend my time in it no matter the weather. It was the driving force that made me learn how to swim, and I spent almost every waking moment

The sea has always been, and always will be, my first love. From the rhythm of her heartbeat on the rocks and sands of the beach, to the comforting canvas that painted her waters as the sun rose and fell, and even the harsh storms and squalls that whipped her waters into a frenzy and opened whirlpools that could swallow battleships whole, I loved every aspect of it. Some days, if I listened hard enough, I could swear that I heard the Grand Line calling to me, beckoning me to come and brave it's waters.

When I was seven, the sea introduced me to my best friend. Rouge was five at the time, a little over two years younger than me, and held the Will of D just like I do. It turned out that she had been watching me for awhile, and had been trying to work up the nerve to ask me to teach her to swim, which I readily agreed to do. She was odd for a D however, as she enjoyed the land just as much as the sea, and she hadn't found her dream yet. Still however, it was thanks to her that I managed to resist the siren call of the sea for as long as I did.

When I was fifteen, my parents gave me the greatest gift I could ever get. A little brother. David was a sweetheart, and my only regret about the life I've led is that I couldn't witness him grow up into the powerful and charismatic man he eventually became.

Shortly after I turned seventeen, Rouge gave me a late birthday present that would change my life forever.

A ferry ticket to the island of Lougetown in East Blue.

I packed up everything I owned that night, said goodbye to my family and friends, and boarded that ferry without a second thought or more than a single backwards glance.

My first glimpse of the island was right at sunrise a week later, and to me it seemed like paradise had come to life.

At the time it was the height of navigation and navel travel, being the island that was considered the gateway to the Grand Line, a critical stop before the insanity for Pirates and Marines alike, and a hotspot for crime and lawlessness.

It was there, on that small lawless island, in a little out of the way no-name bar down by the docks, that I met the two men that would give life to my dream, and little did I know that our meeting was an act of destiny itself.

Their names were Gol. D Roger, and Silvers Reyleigh. Two young men that were ready to take on the world with a smile on their faces and a song in their hearts. Roger bought me a drink and we sat down and talked for awhile, getting to know one another.

From the very beginning Roger's entire demeanor could be summed up in one sentence. A fiercely protective idiotic genius that managed to steal the devil's luck and charm for himself. From the moment I met him I could tell without a doubt that he was strong, strong enough to protect those he cared about and chase after his dreams to make them a reality no matter what anyone else would say to discourage him. His dream was one of the hardest to obtain however, as he sought the recently emptied throne of the Pirate Monarch. The throne that had been emptied with the execution of Proxima D. Harribel 'Lightning Dancer' Lucinda five years before, the 11th Pirate Monarch and 5th Pirate Queen since the end of the Void Century and the beginning of the Modern Era.

He and I clicked instantly, bonding over our love for adventure and mysteries, and I will swear up and down that I have never met a better man.

Reyleigh on the other hand was very different, and we were wary and watchful of each other for nearly a month.

Smart and cynical, Reyleigh was a sadistic taskmaster that took joy in driving others insane as they tried to undo his perfectly calm, lighthearted, casual, fun loving, and lazy mask. He was accompanying Roger to see the world as his first mate and obtain the title of the World's Strongest Swordsman. He was strong as well, but unlike Roger he also regarded everything and everyone they came across with a level of caution. He later told me that he had a sweetheart that was waiting for him around the end of Paradise in the Shabondy Arcopalegio with his daughter, the Captain of the Spider Pirates, and Sky Island native, Silvers 'Shakky' Shakuyaku, and Silvers Calypso, who was barely a year old at the time.

I'll admit, I was skeptical of them at first, and rightly so considering the age we lived in, but Roger's charisma quickly drew me in and had me spellbound.

He asked me to be the second person to join his crew as their Log Keeper the next day as I was browsing through the market for a decent weapon, and I instantly said yes.

We were a small crew, that goes without saying, as we only numbered three at the time, but what we lacked in quantity we made up for in quality.

We purchased our first ship, 'The Herald', that same week after recruiting a man by the name of Zeff as our Sea Chef, a man named Crocus as our Doctor, and a man named Gaban as our Melee Specialist and Quartermaster. That very night we painted our flag, the Jolly Roger of the Roger Pirates, and set sail with smiles on our faces, a song in our hearts, and sake in our hands.

That very night as we plowed through the waves, I had the overwhelming and utterly odd feeling that our crew was going to rock the very foundations of the world...

...and boy was I right.


	2. Chapter One: Reverse Mountain

**I don't own One Piece! Enjoy!**

* * *

 _All great changes_

 _Are preceded by Chaos._

 **~Deepak Chopra**

 _Chaos is a friend of mine._

 _ **~Bob Dylan**_

* * *

 _Chapter 1: Reverse Mountain_

Of all of the mysterious, insane, awe inspireing and beautiful sights that I have seen in this crazy world of ours, in my mind none will ever quite rival that of Reverse Mountain.

The lighthouse was the first clue we were heading the right direction, a strong and lasting warning shining it's brilliant light even in the middle of the day for all who dared to pass it by. But the greatest part was when we actually spotted the Red Line.

If you have ever seen even a part of the Red Line, you would know how disconcerting it is the first time you see it. The horizon suddenly going from endless ocean to a solid wall of earth.

Imagine a mountain range that is so tall the tips of the mountains are hidden in the clouds. Then imagine one right in the middle that is so tall it dwarfs the others and make four monumentally powerful currents run up it's surface to meet in one chaotic clash, before coming together to form one river that drops into the Grand Line.

That would only be giving you a small idea of what it looked like, and to this day I **still** believe it was built just to test the sheer fuck-this-utter-bullshit nerve of anyone that braved it.

Nearly all of us were shell-shocked by just how tall it was, and all six of us nearly gave ourselves vertigo trying to catch a glimpse of the peak.

To our mixed delight and horror, we were immediately caught in the current of the East Blue Canal, arguably the most dangerous of the currents because of the water gates. Unlike most crews however, we didn't fight it's grasp and let ourselves be carried along, only minutely adjusting our course the few times we began to drift.

I can still remember Roger's impossibly wide D. brand smile as he sat on The Herald's golden eagle figurehead, laughing his ass off in excitement and anticipation like the gods be damned bastard he was, as the rest of us either laughed somewhat hysterically or screamed in terror as the ship picked up speed, almost seeming eager to dart ahead into the wild unknown.

I will remember the sight that came next for the rest of my life.

When we crested the top of that mountain the current was so strong it launched us into the air, temporarily lifting us off our feet from the speed and force. The spray that was lifted up with us instantly crystalized into ice around us, shining in a kaleidoscope of color just as gravity reasserted itself and started dragging us back down into the fifth canal. In that moment, I glanced back behind us, and I could have sworn that I could see the outline of a island in that ocean, the End of the Grandline, the finish line.

To this day, I believe it was the Grand Line giving me a brief taste of what was to come.

The Coronation Grounds, the Grand Throne, the Crown of Crowns, the ultimate seat of power throughout the entire world, and the lands of the freest people in the world.

The Island of Raftel.

As we landed in the fifth canal all six of us were either cheering wildly that we survived, or cackling in anticipation of the chaos that was sure to meet us.

We were wrong.

It didn't meet us.

It slammed headfirst into us in the form of the worst storm I have ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

Imagine the power of a category five hurricane, an F5 tornado, a monsoon, and a tsunami, then throw all four of them into the same storm at the same time. That would only give you the _slightest_ idea of how powerful it was.

I learned later that the storm we fought through was only the tip of the iceberg of insanity we were set to encounter.

Over the course of the next two hours, we were slammed with the craziest bipolar weather we ever encountered in Paradise, the result of six different magnetic fields battling for dominance. In that time, we were simultaneously hit with a white out blizzard, a gods be damned heat wave that was so hot it set the sails on fire, a torrential downpour that drenched all of us to the bone, winds that actually picked up the ship and tossed us all around like rag dolls, and a freaking **waterfall** in the middle of the ocean.

Thankfully, we never experienced a storm quite like it again until we hit the New World.

No, the New World is, and will always be, a whole 'nother ball game of cheerful anarchy.

We outright avoided Whiskey Peak, as back then it was, and to my knowledge still is, a haven for bounty hunters from all walks of life and moral. Instead, we docked at the semi-friendly Salvo Island.


	3. Chapter Two: Salvo Island

**I don't own One Piece!**

* * *

 _Good friends don't let you do stupid things...alone._

 _ **~Unknown**_

 _I realize that humor isn't for everyone._

 _It's only for people who want to have fun, enjoy life, and feel alive._

 _ **~Anne Wilson Schaef**_

* * *

 _Chapter 2: Salvo Island_

Salvo Island is a small spring island that is half Marine territory, half Pirate territory. The north half of the island is occupied by a small Marine Base populated by no less than 500 Marines at any given time. The south half of the island is controlled by a Civilian-Pirate town. There is a shaky peace that was established barely a year before we arrived between the two when the ruler of the island put his foot down after a particularly vicious battle with multiple civilian casualties.

Lord Luka, the ruler at the time, was a Devil Fruit User, the first I had ever encountered. He was a Mythical Zoan, with his form being that of the Western Sea Dragon.

Those who are unaware of what Devil Fruits are, well, I'll explain.

Devil Fruits are exactly as the sound, fruits of all kinds. They are always unique in color, and are usually pattered with odd swirls that immediately differentiate them from a normal fruit. They come in three known categories, though it is speculated that there is a fourth. Legend has is that all Devil Fruits are the incarnation and powers of the Sea Devil, the Spirit of the Sea that was brutally murdered thousands of years ago. It is universal however that once you eat one, you'll gain a special ability, but you will never be able to swim again. They're powers are often seen as sorcery or curses, and they are worth quite a pretty beli on the Black Market. Unfortunately, every single devil fruit is positively disgusting to eat, as they all are completely rancid, and a single bite of the fruit will transfer the powers to the eater.

Zoan, the first, is the most common, with the subsection of Mythical Zoan which are the rarest of them all. Zoans cause those who eat them to become Animal Hybrids. The first to come to mind when I think of them was a man named Victorio who proudly fought all challengers with his Cat Cat Fruit Model: White Lion.

Paramecia Fruits are far more common, and utterly variant in their abilities and uses. I knew of a young man who could stretch his limps to ridiculous lengths, another woman who could form and control soap bubbles from thin air, another man who could magnetic and figured out a way to control all the metal around him with it, and many many others. One of the most famous Paramecia Users however, is actually one of the four emperors, the great and powerful Whitebeard himself with the Rumble Rumble Fruit.

Logia however, are rare beyond all belief. They give their eater the ability to literally _become_ and control a random element. These ones are beyond rare however, and it is extremely unlikely to encounter one of these outside the upper ranks of the Marine Corps, or outside of the New World.

The fourth category however is made up of several fruits who's existence have been rumored throughout the ages. Fruits with the ability to _literally_ turn those who eat them into the equivalent of earthbound _gods_. I can personally vouch for the existence of three such fruits, but for the safety of the ones who ate them, I will not elaborate further.

Mythical Zoans are a subsection of Zoan, and do exactly the same thing as regular Zoans, however they turn those who eat them into Mythical Animals, usually with at least one or more elements that they could control. Off the top of my head, I can name a grand total of three Mythical Zoans alive today. Marco 'The Phoenix' the First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, 'The Buddha' Fleet Admiral Sengoku, and a third that requested I leave out his name and powers for his, and his family's, safety.

Needless to say, no one wanted to get on Luka's bad side seeing as how he could control the sea itself, making Devil Fruit powers a nonissue to his rule. Despite his power Luka was a surprisingly good ruler, loved by his people and equally respected and feared by Pirates and Marines alike.

He was one of the few people that Roger respected without any hesitation, and one of the few people I recall fondly even to this day.

It was there, that we also met the man who eventually become Roger's greatest adversary.

Monkey D. Garp, the highly acclaimed, decorated, and respected Hero of the Marines today.

Back then, he was Captain Garp 'The Fist', a newly promoted captain who had been stationed on the island in a hopeful effort to try and cut off the few pirate crews who made it past the test of Reverse Mountain. The truce of the island however prevented any fighting on the island itself, so I assume that someone didn't quite think that decision through when they assigned him to the base.

We didn't stay on the island for long, since it only took twelve hours for the Log Poise to set, but in those short twelve hours Roger managed to meet both Luka and Garp over a cup of sake, impress Luka to the point of our entire crew being granted permanent asylum on the island, piss off Garp to the point of discovering several new shades of the color red and the color purple, and lead Garp on a merry half-joking chase through the streets as Luka eagerly egged them on from the sidelines. At the end of it all, Roger practically jumped aboard The Herald and ordered us to set off for the next island as fast as we could.

That one short chase would kick off a nearly _twenty year long_ epic between two men who would become the best of friends and the bitterest of rivals. The two men who would become **world renowned** as the second and third strongest men in the world.

I still remember his hysterical laughter as we left Garp screaming curses and _throwing_ cannon balls at us back on that beach after we sabotaged all the marine ships on the island.

To be perfectly honest, the rest of us were laughing just as hard as him at some of the words that the esteemed Marine Captain was screaming. _Especially_ when Rayleigh looked at him with a mock insulted face and loudly demanded, and I quote: _"_ _You kiss your mother with that mouth_ _Marine_ _?!"_

Garp turned yet another ten new shades of purple, before turning around and practically barking orders at his men to begin preparations for a long chase as his entire body rapidly and furiously _twitched_ in rage fueled frustration to our utter glee.

We set off in high spirits, leaving behind Salvo Island with smiles on our faces as we pointed our ship towards the next Island on our journey.


	4. Chapter 3: Ocean Antics

**Still don't own One Piece!**

* * *

 _Traveling's not something you're good at._

 _It's something you do, like breathing._

 _ **~Goyle Foreman**_

 _The world is a book_

 _And those who do not travel_

 _Read only one page_

 _ **~St. Agustine**_

* * *

 _Chapter 3: Ocean Antics_

Needless to say, the rest of our travels through the oceans of Paradise weren't nearly as insane as those first few hours after Reverse Mountain, or even that of Salvo Island. No, they were _faaaaar worse_.

From island sized Sea Kings to rouge waves to other pirate crews, bounty hunters, and fanatical marines, we witnessed and experienced some pretty insane things.

The encounter I remember the best from those first days however, was the day we met Laboon, the Island Whale.

At first, we were confused at how he managed to get there. Islands Whales are native to West Blue, and therefore it was impossible for them to swim in the first half of the Grand Line.

From what I remember, at the time Laboon was only half grown, yet he was still easily twice the size of our ship. Roger, with his ever face palm worthy humor and excitement, seemed oddly subdued when we met the whale. When I asked him why, he replied that Laboon had been waiting for his friends, his adoptive pod, the Rumbar Pirates, for nearly fifteen years. The Whale usually hung around the entrance of Reverse Mountain, but had gotten hungry that day and decided to go and find some food right before we showed up.

When I asked how he knew that, Roger told me that he heard the whale say it.

Now, after all these years, after everything I've experienced and learned in this completely nutty life of mine, I think I finally understand what he was talking about, but for the safety of my own, and the rest of the crew's, sanity and lives I won't be writing down what exactly it was. If the World Government knew about the ability Roger possessed, they would stop at nothing to hunt all of the former Roger Pirates down to interrogate us. Pardons be damned.

Let's just say it's an ability that only true D's are ridiculously lucky to be able to unlock, much less use, and leave it at that.

In the end we agreed to search for Laboon's crew, and bring any information we found about them back. I swear that whale was crying in joy as we sailed away.

We sailed through relatively calm seas for a week after that, and then we hit Little Garden.

Don't even get me _started_ on Little, _may the gods be damned,_ Garden.

The moment we spotted land, I had the unshakable feeling that there would be trouble. Trouble of D proportions.

Let me give a warning to everyone who would even _think_ about sailing there.

Little Garden is a _Prehistoric_ Summer Island.

You know what that means right?

Dinosaurs.

Yeah, you heard me right.

 _Fucking Dinosaurs!_

The entire island is chalk full of them, and **none** of them are friendly in any way _what so ever_.

When Roger managed to get a good look at some of the wildlife, his eyes lit up with glee in a way I swear I will never forget for as long as I live.

Then he proudly claimed he was going to ride a T-Rex.

Rodeo style.

I don't know what the hell prompted me to volunteer to go with him, but I gotta say, it was entertaining as all hell to watch him try to catch and ride that T-Rex.

Then he got eaten by an Allosaurus and it wasn't so funny.

I had to slice open that thing's stomach to get Roger out, but afterwards, when he was covered in blood and stomach acid, he eagerly told me he wanted to do it again.

I threw him into a river and told him to scrub himself off or I wouldn't even consider it.

I turned my back for _five fucking minutes_ and the next thing I know that utterly insane **bastard** thought it would be a fan- _fucking-tastic_ idea to piss off the resident **GIANTS**!

Honestly, I have no idea how the **hell** Rayleigh dealt with him for the three years before they started the crew, and frankly _I don't want to know_. I pity Ray's sanity though, because the fact that I'm a **D** just like he is and to this day I **still** think Roger is bat-shit insane, I can't imagine how much **worse** he had to have been when he was younger.

I swore then and there that if we made it out alive I would throttle Roger with my bare hands.

Three hours, a lot of running, a heartfelt apology to the giants, a stolen Eternal Poise and the _largest freaking_ _**goldfish**_ I will _**ever**_ see later, I made good on that promise. It took four members of the crew, and Ray, to physically drag me off of Roger and a crowbar to pry my hands loose from his throat.

I spent the night down in the brig trying to smash through Sea Stone lined walls in a blind rage and cooling off.

I _still_ regret nothing to this day.


	5. Chapter 4: Twistwood Island

**One Piece is still not mine!**

* * *

 _The horse is a mirror to your soul._

 _Sometimes you might not liked what you see._

 _Sometimes you will._

Buck Brannaman

 _When God wanted to create the horse,_

 _He said to the South Wind,_

 _'I want to make a creature of you. Condense.'_

 _And the Wind Condensed._

Unknown

* * *

 _Chapter 4: Twistwood Island_

Alright, looking back on it, I have to admit that I _may_ have overreacted to Roger's antics on Little Garden.

I still believe that at least _part_ of my blind rage was justified however, even though I came out of my cozy cell in the brig the next morning with aching hands and a brusied pride.

Roger immediately apologized for aggravating me to the point of attempting homicide, but also reminded me that I had signed on for the long haul and that ment I had to put up with him.

I started banging my head against the mast, asking Kami _why_ I was the only woman on the crew, and the only one with an _actual_ amount of common sense.

Rayleigh didn't count in my mind. He had been putting up with Roger's unique brand of bullshit for far longer and had somehow become blind to all but the worst of it.

God I still get migraines thinking about that time, even if they were the best, worst, and fucking _craziest_ twenty years of my life.

Looking back though, even in those aggravating moments when I wanted to kill someone that pissed me off, I look at my husband and son, and can't bring myself to regret a single moment of the insanity at all.

Our next adventure however wandered into the realms of _WIERD._

On the surface, Twistwood Island seems warm and inviting, but it's warm spring climate and somewhat friendly natives hide a _very_ dark secret that should not see the light of day. The island itself gets it's name because of a very interesting phenomenon. All trees on the island grow twisted.

Apparently there is a strong wind that blows from a random direction nearly every night, bending and twisting the young trees so badly until they grow sturdy enough to resist it. But by the time the trees are grown, they are twisted into elegant twists and loops that are unique to each tree.

Of course, right after I managed to jot down that information the natives sprung their carefully laid trap.

You see, their entire culture revolves around luring passing travelers in to the island to sacrifice to the local population of omnivorous horses in the hopes that they will be left alone if they do.

Yeah, I could not make this shit up if I _tried_.

Apparently they are called Diomedes Horses, and they are **native** to a short chain of islands that make up one of paths in the first half of the Grand Line. It certainly explains why barely any crew are ever seen again even if they make it past Twistwood Island.

I am going to call those Islands the Isles of Death, because as far as I know, no living being has ever mapped them out.

Back to my story though...

Before we knew what hit us, the entire clearing that the crew occupied was plunged into a cloud of sleeping gas. The good kind that knocks people out in a matter of seconds. When we woke up again, we were all tied to poles as the natives surrounded us with spears that barely held back the snarling horses. Curiously enough however, Rayleigh was missing from our number.

Roger was wide awake, grinning like a madman, and trying in vain to naw on the necklace of sausages around his throat.

I wanted to face palm, but my hands were unfortunately chained behind my back and the first of the horses had just broken through the line of natives and was heading straight for me.

It was slashed down in short order, and I looked up to see a sight that I never want to see again.

A truly _pissed_ _off_ Rayleigh.

He was covered in dust, above his right eye was a bleeding cut, and in one hand was an empty bottle of sake while in the other was his sword.

He was _not happy._

Especially because the sleeping gas had contaminated the sake.

Ray was like a whirlwind of blades after that, and the next thing I knew I was rubbing feeling back into my wrists as the terrified horses gave us a lift back to the village. Rayleigh was astride the lead stallion with Roger, who was happily nawing on his sausage necklace, right alongside him on the lead mare.

The natives were even more terrified of us, as we were apparently one of the first crews to actually wake up half way through their abandonment.

Rayleigh was not impressed.

He then proceeded to lecture them for the next three hours about the wonders of fences and truces.

He then sat down with them and the lead Stallion for the next two hours to work out said truce. Said truce involved copious amounts of apples and sugar, an agreement to ride into battle together, and a martial agreement to leave all cadavers on the battlefield for the horses to feast on once the battles are done.

We left later that night after the Log Poise reset, having witnessed the rise of the Bones Kingdom, an island chain kingdom of skilled horse wranglers who's mounts are feared and revered the world over. To this day, not even the Marines will challenge them for the fear of the collateral damage. Others however foolishly challenge them all the time for the island's copious amounts of natural resources, and all of them fall under the eager teeth of the Diomedes Horses.

The newly crowned Lord Mantatumbe, the old Chief of the Natives, told us that we were welcome on their islands at any time.

We respectfully left the island, and once we were out of earshot we all unanimously agreed to _never_ set foot on _any_ of the islands again.


End file.
